Life Lessons
by meltinglacier
Summary: Azula's father teaches her about seven important things: discipline, trust, life, love, joy, obedience, and strength. Warning: abuse.


**Life Lessons**

**Summary:** Azula's father teaches her about seven important things: discipline, trust, life, love, joy, obedience, and strength.

**Pairings: **Urzai, some Maiko, and a one-sided and very short-lived Azula/Nameless Kitchen Boy.

**Warnings: **This fic is basically Ozai abusing, manipulating, and otherwise just plain brainwashing Azula. He physically abuses her under the guise of 'training,' but there are no overt beatings. Instead, he alienates her from her friends, betrays her trust, plays her against Zuko, and maintains a hot and cold attitude which keeps her off-balance and wanting to please him (for starters). There is no sexual abuse.

**A/N:** Read the warnings. I tried to explain why Azula is the way she is, in relation to how Ozai treated her during her childhood. Reviews would be appreciated.

Much thanks to **Fire Lord Azula** for the beta.

* * *

><p><em>i. discipline<em>

"Almost isn't good enough!"

~Azula, The Avatar State

"Azula." Her father's voice is sharp.

"Yes, Father?"

"What is this?"

With a sinking feeling in her heart, she turns around. In his hand is her drawing. It's not a particularly large drawing, but it still includes their entire family. Father is sitting on his throne, Mother is standing to his left and holding Zuko close, and Azula is standing to his right. None of them are smiling; Azula had been determined to make it as realistic as possible.

"My drawing."

"You spent your time on _this_, rather than practicing your Firebending forms?" His expression makes it seem like he's holding a piece of garbage in his hands. Hesitantly, she nods.

"Well, you've got to make up for lost time. Burn it."

Azula is surprised, too surprised to hide it, and she foolishly echoes him. "Burn it?"

She cringes. She knows how her father hates it when people question him, especially if they repeat his words.

"Did I stutter?"

"No, Father."

Her father hates stuttering as well. He says that it's not dignified for royalty. Peasants stutter. Princesses do not.

"You are not a parrot-monkey," he says. "Do not act like one."

This is what he says to Zuko. She bows her head. "Yes, Father."

"Use the fifth kick. Begin." He throws the paper in the air and steps back.

Azula jumps, spinning in the air and kicking. Fire shoots out from her foot and incinerates the paper. While in the air, she twists the other way and kicks out another jet of fire. She wobbles as she lands. She ignores the feeling that pinches in her chest as bits of black ash rain down. Father is staring at her, and she tries not to squirm under his scrutiny.

When he speaks, his voice is deathly quiet. "What was that?"

"My fifth kick."

"Pathetic. Do it again."

Azula bites back a protest. She thought she had done them well enough, except for that last part, but her father knows best. She repeats the actions, making sure to land perfectly.

"I cannot believe this. Here I am, ready to spend time with my daughter, and then I find that not only has she been neglecting her training to _draw_, but she can't even do the basics right."

"I'm sorry, Father. What is it that I'm doing wrong?" she asks humbly.

"You question me?"

"No! It's just that, I don't understand how I'm supposed to improve if I don't know what I'm doing wrong."

"You don't think that I know Firebending?"

"No! I just mean that – "

"If you're not going to take this seriously, there's no point in me training you. Even Zuko could do better than this."

A flush of shame works its way through her, but it quickly turns to panic at his next words. "Maybe I should go and train with Zuko. Maybe _he'll_ take this seriously."

"No! I'm sorry! Don't go, please!" When her father raises his eyebrows, she realizes that her hands are clutching at his robes. Too bold and too desperate. She lets go as if he has burnt her.

"Fine. Let's try this again." She scrambles into position. "Begin."

Jump. Spin. Kick. Twist. Kick. Land.

"Again."

Jump, then spin, then kick, then twist, then kick, then land.

"Again."

Jump, spin, kick, twist, kick, land.

"Good job, Azula. See, you can do this, if you really try."

Azula blinks in confusion. She hasn't done anything different than before. At least, she _thinks_ she hasn't. But Father's praising her, so she must have done something right. She smiles up at him, but his face is stern again.

"Let's see if you can do it again."

Determined, she takes her stance, then tries to replicate what she did. Her feet have barely touched the ground when she is knocked down with a blow that makes her ears ring. Shakily, she pushes herself back up and coughs.

"What – ?"

"Don't play games with me, girl. Now that I know you can do it right, I'm not going to be lenient anymore. Anytime you fail, I'm going to make you sorry. Again."

She does it again, and cringes when she lands, but Father merely looks at her impassively. "Again."

She tries again, and is swept off of her feet. Her back hits the hard ground, and suddenly she can't breathe. She tries to gasp, but she can't get any air in. She starts to panic, but her father's voice is by her ear, comforting her.

"Don't worry, Azula. You just got the wind knocked out of you. You'll be fine."

And he's right, because soon she can breathe again.

"Are you alright?" She nods. "Then get up." His voice is hard. She does so, and executes the move again.

"Again."

This continues for most of the day. Sometimes she does it well, sometimes she doesn't. She still can't tell the difference, but Father can, and he makes sure to let her know with a well-timed smack.

This happens over and over, until she's nearly falling over in exhaustion, but it's wonderful, exhilarating, because all of Father's attention is focused on her. And even when he's frowning, it's okay, because he's helping her become better, become more focused.

He's right. She shouldn't have been drawing when she could have been training, acquiring new habits. She's obviously out of shape if she can't perfect such an easy move. Her father says that she's good at Firebending, so for her to be such a failure must really disappoint him.

"Stop."

She freezes mid-motion and sways where she stands. Father circles her, no doubt taking note of her trembling frame and heaving chest.

"Hn. We're going to have to work on your endurance. From now on, I expect you to spend an extra two hours on these forms, until I deem them acceptable."

"Yes, Father." She bows and nearly falls over when the ground tilts sharply.

His lip curls and he turns away from her. "Rest now, if you must. We'll continue tomorrow." He doesn't wait for an answer, and sweeps out of the room.

Silently, Azula gets back into her starting position, firms her stance, and starts again.

_ii. trust_

"You lied to me!"

"Like I've never done _that _before."

~Zuko and Azula, The Avatar State

Father has just finished training Azula for the day. He is composed, with pristine robes and only a light sheen of sweat on his brow. In contrast, Azula's shirt is plastered to her back, and she is breathing rapidly. This doesn't stop her from listening avidly when he begins to speak.

"Family are the only ones that you can really trust."

Azula nods and stares up at her father, wide-eyed. He doesn't often decide to share his wisdom with her, so when he does, she soaks it up.

"I see, Father."

"No, I don't think you do."

Azula wants to disagree, but the bruise on her side throbs, reminding her of what happens when she does that. Not that Father hurt her so bad on purpose; he apologized right after, and told her what a strong girl she was for not even crying out when he hit her. She is determined not to complain about it, and besides she had been mouthy. So she doesn't say anything this time, just waits for Father to speak.

"Do you trust Mai and Ty Lee?"

Azula almost says yes, but somehow, she knows that isn't the answer that her father's looking for. She shrugs.

"Do not shrug. It's beneath you."

"Yes, Father."

"Azula, I don't like to repeat myself. Answer the question."

She wants to give some kind of noncommittal gesture, but she doesn't want to test his patience.

"Yes," she says softly. She senses that her father is displeased, but she doesn't know why. Had he _wanted _her to lie? That doesn't make sense though, because he had just told her that families should trust each other.

"Why?" he asks.

"They're…my friends."

"They're paid to be."

"What?"

"You heard me. What? Did you actually think that they would stay around you if they weren't paid? You did, didn't you? Truly pathetic." His words cut into Azula, but she doesn't say anything in defense. "And here I thought that you were more observant than that. Or maybe you like deluding yourself? Hm? Is that it?"

Father is much smarter than her. He's a Prince. He wouldn't say such things if he wasn't sure of them, so he must be right. This is the logical answer, but her heart recoils from it. Her eyes well up. Her hands move to intercept the traitorous tears, but it's too late.

"Oh, Azula. My daughter." Father strokes her hair. "I don't think those things about you. This is what your 'friends' think. Isn't that obvious?"

Shame wells up in Azula. It _should_ be obvious, but she's just too sensitive. She takes things too personally.

"I'm your Father. I say these things for your own good. Do you understand me, Azula?"

"Yes, Father."

"Do you trust me, Azula?"

"Of course, Father."

"Then tell me a secret about you, something that you've never told anyone else."

Azula obeys.

It feels so nice to confide in him, to share something, and know that it's now _their_ secret.

The next day, when Zuko taunts her with knowledge that only one other person is supposed to know, she understands.

_iii. life_

"Dad's going to kill you! Really, he is."

~Azula, Zuko Alone

"Y-you killed it," Azula chokes out, staring at the dead turtle-duck in her father's hand. He strangled it, right in front of her, and for some reason, she is horrified. It was just a little baby, the youngest.

"Why did you do that?" _Why did you show me this?_

"It was weak. See this?" He points, and Azula has to look. One of its legs is shriveled. "Useless. It was too slow. It didn't contribute to anything. It had to die."

"I don't understand?" She doesn't mean for it to come out as a question.

"Life is short. You must make something of it, or be eliminated."

"But, if life is so short, why make it shorter?" It's a valid question, she thinks, but she still bows her head in case Father is…displeased.

His doesn't sound upset when he answers. "You've got a sharp mind. Good. But don't let that lead you astray, my daughter. There are times for questioning, and there are times when you must do your duty as a citizen of the Fire Nation. Am I clear?"

"Yes, Father." He still hasn't answered her question, but she's not about to bring it up.

"Good. Now, how to explain it in terms that you understand?" His voice is filled with derision and Azula feels herself flush. She is supposed to be the genius. Why does she always ask such stupid questions?

"Here in the Fire Nation, everyone has a value. Some more than others. And there are people who are inherently worth more than others. People like us. This you know."

Azula nods. She does know.

"Your life is only as valuable as what you do with it. Your skills. A peasant who can only farm is valuable, but teach him how to fight, and he becomes ten times more valuable. Life is about who is the strongest, who will win in the end. Those weaker than us deserve to be cut down." His hand softly caresses the dead animal at his side. "Do you understand now?"

"I think so."

"You _think_ so? Or you know so?"

"I know so."

"Very good. The world is cruel to those who don't have natural advantages."

Usually, she would be pleased about this, spending time with her father as he explains things to her, but all she feels is sick. Her eyes are transfixed to the little animal that was once breathing, before Father snapped its neck.

"Where's its mother?"

"Abandoned it."

Mother had abandoned them too. She looks up at her father.

"That's what happens when you're weak," he says, like he knows her thoughts.

Azula is _not_ the weak one.

Thinking of Mother has brought a memory to the front of her mind. Zuko and Mother feeding the turtle-ducks together, smiling and content.

"This one was Zuko's favorite," she murmurs without thinking, and Father glances over at her sharply.

"And how do you know that?"

"I was practicing my information gathering," she says, because she doesn't want him to think that she actually cares about Zuko, or spends time with him. And she certainly hasn't spent time watching him and Mother, while jealousy burns behind her eyes.

His hand descends on her shoulder, hot and heavy. "That's my daughter," he says, and she can hear the pride in his voice.

This is the hand of a man who just killed, but it's also the hand of a father. She swallows dryly, torn between the desire to escape from under his hand, and the desire to lean into it. When he had acknowledged her like this before, she had always felt happy, but now, she isn't so sure.

She hates feeling uncertain.

She chooses to be happy, because it's the familiar emotion for occasions like this. She thanks him, and bears the weight of his hand, and his expectations.

_iv. love_

"Together you and I will be the strongest couple in the entire world! We will dominate the earth!"

"Uh, I gotta go."

~Azula and Chan, The Beach

Azula has a secret.

She doesn't have many of them, so she takes the time to ponder it in the relative security of her bedroom. She hasn't told anyone it yet. Not Father, because she's learned _that _lesson already. Not Mother, who's too busy with Zuzu to even notice her. Not Uncle, who seems to have had some sort of breakdown since Cousin Lu Ten died; he's been acting strangely, and spending more time with Zuzu as well.

Come to think of it, neither Mother nor Uncle like her very much. Well that's fine with Azula, because she doesn't like them either. There is someone she does like though…

She rolls over on her bed and clutches a pillow to her chest in a decidedly girlish way. She has considered going to her mother for advice, out of some vague instinct that she could help, but discards that thought immediately. Azula knows what this strange feeling fluttering in her stomach is, and she suspects that her mother has never felt it before. At least, not for Father.

Ty Lee has some experience in these matters, though she's always been on the receiving end. Hm, who else can Azula go to? Mai. Yes, Mai will do. She likes Zuko, and Azula suspects that Zuko likes her back.

She'll talk to Ty Lee as well. If she opens up to them a little, then they might see that she has the same interests and problems as them, and then maybe they'll like her more.

Father has ordered her to practice her people skills on them. What he means is practice her skills at manipulating people. He wants her to find their weaknesses, expose all their secrets, then break them down. She doesn't really want to hurt her friends like that, even if they _are_ being paid, but Father's right. It will be good to practice.

And besides, maybe she can get some real advice out of this. Mai is certainly no expert, but at least Zuko knows that she exists, which is more than Azula can say. With that thought in mind, Azula gets up. There is no point in spending any more time lazing about and sighing over some boy.

She heads to the set of guest rooms that Mai and Ty Lee stay in the most often. Recently, Mai has been spending much more time at the Palace, probably in an attempt to escape from her apathetic parents. Azula smirks. It's not much better here, either.

"Azula."

She freezes. Her father stands across the hallway, stern and imposing. He twitches his fingers towards himself, and Azula walks over to him.

"And just what is my darling daughter doing skulking about indoors when she could be outside?" His voice is deceptively light.

"I was going to see Mai."

Can he see her guilt? She knows what he would think about these strange, new feelings, and for a _peasant boy_, no less. But she can't help it, even if he _is_ just a kitchen servant. He's very…pleasant to look at.

"Come with me. I wish to discuss something with you." With a touch of reluctance, she follows him. They stop in front of bronze doors with gold inlay. Usually, when he lets her in this room, it is to discuss battle strategies and the history of war.

As she enters it, she is disappointed to notice that there are no maps or charts laid out across the table, only a scroll.

"Your _mother_ would rather you stayed ignorant, to preserve your childhood innocence, I believe." It is easy to see what Father thinks of that idea. "I however, feel that you should know. Read this."

He passes her the scroll. It takes her a few minutes to understand what she's reading. "This is a betrothal contract."

"It's _your_ betrothal contract."

"Oh. My betrothal contract." Azula is distantly surprised, but she's mostly numb. She isn't exactly sure how she's supposed to feel about this. After all, she's always known that she will have an arranged marriage, but she's never considered it. Now, here is the official document, in her hands.

"What do you think of the match?"

"It…makes sense," she says as she puts the scroll back on the table. "It is…a wise arrangement." And she can't help but think about the kitchen boy.

"That isn't what you mean. What is on your mind?"

"Nothing, really, it's just…"

"What is it, my daughter?"

"What about love?"

"What about it? Foolish child, I thought that you'd already gotten rid of those naïve ideals. You don't need love in a marriage, especially a noble one."

"What about if a noble marries a commoner? For love, I mean."

Her Father's eyes sharpen, and she winces internally. Now he suspects something.

"You shouldn't even need to ask. They'd be disgraced, stripped of their titles, and humiliated."

"And the commoner?"

"Would have some kind of accident befall him, most likely. Here in the Fire Nation, we believe in equal opportunity, but there is only so high a peasant can rise before he must be reminded of his place."

"I see. That…makes sense."

"But enough about hypothetical commoner marriages; we didn't come here to discuss that. You won't even have to worry about this marriage unless your _brother_" – here, his voice sharpens – "somehow doesn't produce any heirs. But, in the event that does happen, this contract will come into play. And after there are a few potential heirs, and your husband isn't needed anymore, well then who knows what might happen."

For a moment, Azula is shocked at what Father is insinuating, but that feeling quickly passes. From what she has seen, her potential husband is disgustingly soft-hearted. She wouldn't want any of her children to be raised by him; they'd probably turn out like her brother.

"By the way, Azula, I didn't bring you here just to talk about that. The girl that was to be Zuko's wife, Zalia, has died."

Ah, yes, Azula remembers her. A thin, waiflike girl with excellent lineage, whose beauty couldn't cover up her sickly cough. Well, apparently her pedigree was no match for illness.

"How did she die?"

"Fire fever, I believe. Anyway, that isn't the issue; Zuko no longer has a fiancée. Who would you recommend?"

Father wants her advice. She pushes back her excitement at this, so she doesn't look too eager. She already knows who she wants to pick, but she spends a few minutes in pretend thought. She must look like she's given this some consideration.

"Mai," she says eventually.

"Oh?"

Azula takes it as an invitation to explain her reasoning. "She comes from a fine enough family, she doesn't let her face reveal her thoughts too easily, and she's not an emotional fool. She would balance Zuzu's temper. Who knows? She might even be a good influence on him. She's been raised at the palace, so she knows what would be expected of her. Her skill with throwing knives could come in handy. She's certainly more useful than that Zaila would have been."

_Not to mention,_ Azula adds to herself, _she would be another way to control Zuzu._

Father smirks at her, as if he knows what she's thinking. "It's not just because you're friends?"

"Of course not, Father," she says, all innocence.

"Alright, my daughter, I approve of your choice. I'll let Mai's parents know, and see what they say."

Mai's mother will jump at this chance, Azula knows. And as for Mai…

"Father, can I be the one to tell Mai?" She wants to see Mai's reaction. Maybe that mask of hers will be knocked loose for a second.

"I don't see why not. Go ahead," he says benevolently.

"Thank you," she says as she bows. She is able to locate Mai quickly and tell her the news. Her reaction is better than Azula had hoped. They go to tell Ty Lee, who squeals and jumps around, hugging everyone. Azula spends the rest of the day with the two, feeling strangely light-hearted.

Later, she finds out that the kitchen boy has left the Palace after a nasty accident with the stove. It was so horrible, the servants had whispered, all those burns. Azula bets that he isn't quite so pleasant to look at now. And that's the last that she thinks about _that_.

_v. joy_

"Yes! We have defeated you for all time! You will never rise from the ashes of your shame and humiliation!...Well, that was fun."

~Azula, The Beach

Father laughs.

It is a cruel, satisfied laugh, but it's still a happy laugh. Azula knows why he's happy. Grandfather Azulon is dead, Mother is gone, and Father is the Fire Lord now.

"Listen, my daughter," he says. "When you look back on this day, what will you remember?"

_Your laughter_, Azula thinks, because she has never heard her father laugh before today. Outwardly, she says, "I will remember it as the day that you achieved what was rightfully yours."

"Remember this, Azula," he says, sweeping an arm out in a grand gesture. "Can you see the power? The control? I have it all. This is the sum of my planning, the reward for all my struggles."

"It is amazing, Father," she says respectfully.

"This is the dawning of a new age in Fire Nation history! Everyone will look back and remember Fire Lord Ozai!" Father's face is alight with vicious glee.

Azula stares out at the vast throne room. It is magnificent, finely decorated, with grand tapestries and stone pillars. There is no one here but her and Father. He had dismissed everyone earlier; he's only showing Azula this part of him. The large room is empty, cold.

Ah, so this is what happiness is.

_vi. obedience_

"Well then maybe you should worry less about the tides, who've already made up their minds about killing you, and worry more about me, who's still mulling it over…"

~Azula, The Avatar State

"You've got such a pretty face. Have I ever told you that?"

"No, Father."

"Hm. Well, in any case, I hope that nothing happens to it." Azula doesn't prompt him, and in a moment, he resumes his speech. "It would be such a shame if it got burned off."

Cold fear trickles down her neck, and she forces her face to be impassive. It's just her and Father. It's _always_ just her and Father now.

"If you don't practice your Firebending forms, you're sure to have a nasty accident someday. Understand?"

"Yes, Father."

She understands perfectly.

He grabs her chin, and she successfully holds in her flinch. His hands are hot and brutal, and for a moment she wonders if her hands are the same. He tilts her face to the side, examining her. His eyes linger on smooth, unscarred skin.

"You take after me," he muses. "In both looks and mentality." This sooths Azula, ignites a spark of pride in her chest. She's like Father, so he wouldn't hurt her, not if she's dutiful and loyal. At least, that's what she tells herself.

Father's eyes soften and he lets go of her face. "I don't mean to scare you, Azula. You're doing wonderfully as you are. This is just a warning. Continue to be a good girl, and you'll be fine."

He sounds genuinely regretful, and Azula can almost fool herself into thinking that he's actually worried about her wellbeing.

Almost.

Even though it's an act, there's still a small, neglected part of her that desperately wants her Father's approval. And she knows that the best way to get it is to obey.

She's always a good girl, a good Fire Nation Princess. She knows what happens to bad children.

_vii. strength_

"If I sense any weakness, any disloyalty, any hesitation _at all_, I will snuff it out."

~Azula, The Crossroads of Destiny

Azula is hungry.

That's an inadequate description of her current state.

Azula is starving.

There's a pressure in her torso, squeezing her stomach, crushing and twisting until she's left shaking. Her hands shake, all the time now, and occasionally her vision is filled with spots. She can feel her hard-earned muscles wasting away. She doesn't know how many days it has been, which is a dreadful lack of discipline on her part.

It matters little. She might be losing her physical strength, but Father is strengthening her will. Muscles can be built back up. A weak-willed person is a liability to all that she comes in contact with.

Surely Father wouldn't anything that would put her in danger. Her mind flashes back to several training 'incidences.' Nevermind.

Those times had been punishments. Azula had been less than she should be, and had been treated accordingly. But this time is different. She hasn't done anything to be punished; Father is just helping her become stronger.

At least, she _thinks_ that's the case. Father has been so confusing lately, praising her one moment and insulting her the next. She's off balance, and the lack of food isn't helping.

As if in agreement with her thoughts, her stomach gives a deep pang, and she is abruptly reminded of where she is.

Father is eating dinner. Azula watches, sitting across from him with her hands folded neatly in her lap to mask the fine tremors that move through them. She can see sweet fruits, rice fried in a spicy vegetable sauce, and little flat cakes with a thick syrup drizzled on top of them.

Now he's carving off a slice of pig-pheasant meat. For a moment, she's sorry that she has such a keen sense of observation, because she can see the dripping juices and the steam rising from it. The rich, succulent aroma wafts over to her side of the table.

She cuts that thought off as saliva pools in her mouth. A Princess doesn't drool. Ever.

Her father stops eating for a moment to appraise her. Immediately, she can feel her posture straightening. "You're doing so well, Azula," he says.

Praise from Father is so few and far between these days.

"Thank you," she says softly. Not because she's playing the part of a demure Princess, but because she can't inhale deeply without her stomach cramping painfully.

"How are you feeling?" He's concerned about her. Maybe.

"Fine."

"So you'll be able to make it through another day?"

"Yes, Father," she says, even as her mind screams, _No! No, I can't!_

"I would expect nothing less of my daughter," he says, and it feels so _good_ to hear those words. Before the warm glow that his words cause has time to settle, his face is stern again. "Don't let me down."

She _will _earn his approval. "I won't, Father."

"You may go now."

Azula's been dreading this moment, because she's not sure if she can stand back up and the food just looks so delicious. Would Father really be all that angry if she were to lunge across the table and take just a little bit of his food?

And these kinds of thoughts are why he's doing this to her. Somehow, he knows how weak she is. "Thank you, Father," she says.

Oh, and Azula, tomorrow is the Feast of Fire." That soon already? But that meant – she came to the conclusion a second before her father spoke. "As Crown Princess, you will be expected to attend."

"Of course, Father." She hides a wince; the idea of sitting there in front of a table stacked with food fills her with dread.

"And you will sit at my right hand." This is the first year that she has been allowed such a position of honor. Traditionally, it is reserved for the heir to the throne.

Her father _is _making her stronger, she sees that now. He's preparing her for the throne. He is placing his expectations on her. He always has been, she realizes. She will not let him down.

"Remember that you have been given an opportunity that not many in your position would have. You will no longer be disqualified simply because you were born second."

He's not just talking about her. He's thinking back to another pair of siblings. Azula remembers the outcome of that game for power, and she makes up her mind. She stands up and bows in gratitude. Then she strides out, head held high. She won't dwell on what happened to Zuko. He was weak. She is not.

_(the beginning of)_

"If I want to catch my prey, I must be agile, nimble. I need a small elite team. It's time to visit some old friends."

~Azula, Return to Omashu

Azula has learned all of her lessons, and now Father is ready to put her to the test. Her foolish brother has failed again, and it falls to Azula to clean up the mess. She is to bring the exile and the traitor home. She will take Mai and Ty Lee with her. Even if they aren't really her friends – and this is something that she's never been sure of, despite what her father has said – they are useful resources.

Along the way, she decides to take the initiative and catch the Avatar, since Zuko can't even do that. She will succeed where he did not. Father will be pleased.

Azula is the perfect Princess, and she will prove it.

_(the end)_


End file.
